<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sacrificial by Vanemis</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245203">Sacrificial</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanemis/pseuds/Vanemis'>Vanemis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story, American Horror Story: 1984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Necromancy, Short One Shot, graphic description of death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:33:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27245203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanemis/pseuds/Vanemis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce died just on the edge of Redwood and when Richard finally finds his body, he can't bear to leave his friend behind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Richard Ramirez/Bruce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sacrificial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They couldn’t hold him forever. Mistakes were made and a lack of communication between the ghostly campers had given Richard a chance to run, and he did not waste it. The low-hanging branches whipped at his face as he sprinted through the dense forest. They were far behind for now but any moment, one of them could leap in the way and stop him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There had been a few occasions in Richard’s life when he’d bolted like his life depended on it, and usually it did. But he wasn’t running from an angry shopkeeper after stealing some food at the tender age of eleven, and he wasn’t running from the cops or from shotgun-wielding homeowners he’d thought wouldn’t be back until much later. It wasn’t like that final moment of freedom he had before Jingles betrayed him. All of those moments had been very different because death had been on his side and he didn’t fear the consequences of his actions. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If he faltered now, if he stumbled over a rock or took a wrong turn down a dusty path, his life would surely be over. The campers would not make the same mistake again, so he ran and dodged towering pine trees and vaulted over fallen logs. The moon was mostly hidden behind dark clouds which threatened rain so the paths weren’t clear. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard wasn’t relying just on his poor vision in the dark, though. Something that not many people could see was guiding him through the trees, just as eager as him to leave Redwood behind to rot. His Master had limited patience but Richard was loyal and obedient, so he earned a little more time than most would receive and some help in escaping. Although it was like a shadow, like a form made from ever-moving smoke, Richard saw it clear as day and he trusted it to lead him past the boundaries of the property. It disappeared when he made it over the invisible line.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But Richard faltered, stumbled. He was sprinting so fast that he couldn’t stop himself when the ground suddenly gave in and he fell down a steep hill. At least he wasn’t on the property when he finally came to a stop among the bushes and long grass. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He hissed and groaned in pain, his leg pulsing where he’d smacked into a sharp rock. Richard could handle a bit of pain, it was nothing compared to the horrors back in the camp, but his attention was taken by an awful smell. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Rot. Decay. Sweet and natural but still sickening as he breathed it in.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He half-sat up, twisting onto his side while his dirty hands pushed back against the dusty ground covered in fallen leaves. The stench was powerful and he glanced around for the source, eventually checking behind him as he twisted around.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze fell on a rotting corpse, slowly decomposing and letting off the foul smell of death. Richard scrambled backwards in shock, away from the body. He brought his elbow up to his nose and mouth, trying to keep the smell at bay with his sleeve. He’d seen his fair share of dead bodies once the rot set in and the sight of peeling flesh which had been picked by insects and birds wasn’t what turned his stomach.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Although most of the face was ravaged and destroyed by claws and beaks, the clothes were untouched and Richard knew this was the man who’d helped him hunt Jingles down. He had wondered what happened to Bruce, if he was a ghost on the property or if he’d bolted and never looked back, either assuming Richard was already dead or not caring to check. Now, Richard had his answer and he hated it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce had died just a dozen feet from the boundary so he wasn’t trapped like the others. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard knew there was little he could do but Bruce had been a great help, and he was kind to Richard. For a while there, he’d considered keeping Bruce around as a partner in crime. The least he could do was bury the man or maybe set him down in the lake so he wouldn’t rot under the sun. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard crawled closer, breathing shallowly against the smell though it hardly helped, and took hold of Bruce’s sleeve, grasping his forearm. He got up to start dragging the body, careful not to touch the rot, and tugged. Just as he pulled, the rotten muscle and flesh gave way and tore like wet paper and he felt the bone threaten to pull from its socket. Richard let go instantly and it dropped heavily into the dust. He couldn’t move the body without breaking it apart, so he took a step back. And then another, and stumbled and fell back without much care.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard couldn’t say if what he felt was grief. He was angry, enraged that Redwood had taken something else from him and that, of all people, it had to be the one person who genuinely liked him. Losing people never made his chest hurt before. He usually rejoiced in it because it meant he was free from their shackles and their demands, but he didn’t feel that way with Bruce. Bruce had not betrayed him, or left him behind, or given him a single reason to hate the older man. He’d been killed doing exactly what Margaret had asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>No one would find the body. The hill was hidden by trees and the location was so secluded from the camp that it was unlikely anyone would ever walk here and find Bruce. It made Richard even more angry but he still wasn’t sure if he was sad.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>So he tortured himself with a simple thought, as a test. Would he be happier if Bruce was alive and well? And the answer was instantly yes. His heart leapt in his throat and before he could do anything about it, Richard’s vision blurred with tears. So it was grief, and sadness. He had his answer to the confusing emotions stirring in his mind at the sight of his dead friend. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But Richard wasn’t the kind of person who would sit there crying and moping about loss, not when he was very capable of making a difference. He had brought Jingles back from the brink of death with a contract, which Jingles had broken like a fool. There was no spirit to speak with so Richard couldn’t get Bruce’s consent for such a contract but there were other means. Messier and it would take a while, but that hardly meant much. Bruce was already dead. He couldn’t get deader.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard forced himself to come closer and knelt down by the body, placing his hand on the leather sleeve. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Richard promised, unsure if there was a way for Bruce to hear him. “I won’t leave you here.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He stood with a sigh, wiping his face dry with his other hand, and gazed back up the hill towards the camp. The ghosts would surely be running around madly in search of him. If he would’ve had the strength, he would’ve smirked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said it was a romantic spot,” a young blonde girl whined as she made her way along the edge of the lake, sticking closer to the trees than the rocky shore.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Behind her, Richard rolled his eyes and pushed a branch aside. She wasn’t his type at all but he was good at talking to girls, and a few suggestions and make-out sessions later and she was willing to hop into his stolen car and head up to Redwood.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, don’t worry. We’re almost there.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If she was expecting a picnic blanket and some wine, she would soon be disappointed. Richard hardly remembered her name. Abigail? Alice? It hardly mattered. She kept on walking ahead of him, occasionally glancing back to make sure he was right behind her. Her trusting nature was perfect for the task ahead and Richard couldn’t wait. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As she finally reached the spot, her sudden frightened scream was like music to his ears. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a body! We have to call the police!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She spun back towards him seeking safety and Richard pulled his knife from its sheath, slitting her throat open just as she came within arm’s reach. He savoured the shock on her sweet face and pushed her back towards the corpse. Her hands pressed to her throat in a desperate attempt to keep all that blood inside her body, but the cut was far too deep and she lost consciousness as she hit the ground. The blood spilled across the dirt, into the markings he’d placed all around Bruce’s corpse.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard flicked the crimson drops off his blade and took a deep breath. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s all yours, Master. In exchange for my friend’s life.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The girl gurgled as her body finally gave out and she died face-down in the dirt. Richard smirked, waiting patiently for something to happen with Bruce. He waited for the skin to change colour and for his lungs to take a deep breath, but nothing came. Richard frowned.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Master, I offered you her life in exchange for his. A soul for a soul.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Still, nothing happened. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard sensed nothing, not even an echo of His power or presence. He was entirely alone with two bodies. He tried not be disappointed. He would find another girl. Another victim to trade.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With already three useless sacrifices, Richard tried not to lose hope. He dug a simple grave close by to dump the bodies so they wouldn’t get in the way. It was hardly covered up. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped trying to charm girls to follow him up to Redwood. He stalked the streets for random people, yanking them into the trunk of his car before anyone could notice or scream for help. It didn’t matter who he chose, as long as he offered a life to his Master.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But none of them were working.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He fired his stolen handgun and watched as another life bled out on the ground before him. He’d lost track of how many lives he’d taken since he’d started killing. Dozens, maybe more. He looked up at the decaying corpse and fought back against the overwhelming wave of grief and rage. Nothing changed with Bruce.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had killed six people for him now.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard glanced up at the starry sky and raised his arms expectantly. “What do you want me to do? I’m not going to stop. I’ll keep going! I’ll kill every last person on earth if I have to!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There was no answer, no hint that his master was even listening at all.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. If that’s how it’s going to be, then I’ll make you listen!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard suddenly raised the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger. The shot was deafening and his body collapsed next to Bruce, the weapon still in his grasp as blood poured out from the wounds. Richard had died so many times at Redwood. He wasn’t afraid of what would happen next, not that he could have a single thought for now. There was only darkness and nothing else.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His reckless display had done what he’d hoped for, though. His Master knew that this obsession would not end, that hardly any work would continue if Richard stayed desperate. The contract that bound them was weakening but He took a sick enjoyment in torturing the human. If Richard was willing to kill himself to get His attention, perhaps it was worth indulging him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Beside Richard’s corpse, Bruce’s body started to change. His organs were no longer rotted mush and his skin turned from brownish-black and maggot-infested, to pink and lively. Blood formed in his veins and his heart took its first beat in weeks. His lungs felt the brush of air and Bruce suddenly gasped and coughed, blinking up at the night sky in confusion.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His first thought was that he’d turned into a ghost, like the campers, but he turned his head and saw the pile of sacrifices and the marks on the ground. And then he noticed a weight on his arm and a mess of black hair. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie?” Bruce called out, slowly turning onto his side while keeping his arm down. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t notice the hole in his head at first. It was hidden by thick strands that he pulled away to see Richard’s face. There was no denying that the younger man was dead. Bruce saw the gun, and the bodies, and now the headshot and he pieced it all together pretty quickly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no... Richie...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce couldn’t understand why Richard had done all of this. Sure, they were good friends but they had hardly known each other for very long. As much as Bruce admired and obsessed over the killer, he hardly believed it was a mutual feeling. Clearly, he’d been wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As gently as he could, he sat up and carefully placed Richard’s head down. The splatter of blood and brain matter was rather sickening when he considered who it belonged to. Bruce stayed there for a moment. He wanted to bury his friend properly, as a thank you for all of this.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Now, with everything around him, Bruce couldn’t deny that Richard was in league with a higher power. It wasn’t fanaticism or a blur between reality and fantasy. No, something had brought him back from the dead and claimed Richard in exchange.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce leaned down to press a kiss to Richard’s forehead. He was still so warm, but he was certainly not sleeping. Even without all the blood, his dark eyes were wide open. Bruce stroked his cheek and tried to say goodbye but the words died in his throat. Right in front of him, the entrance wound from the bullet sealed shut and Bruce dragged a thumb over the smooth skin. Not a trace remained, not even the enormous exit wound on the other side. It was all gone, like it had never happened.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Richard’s eyes regain their focus and the younger man blinked. His gaze reached up to Bruce and in a flurry of desperate limbs, he scrambled upwards and snatched Bruce into his arms.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck! Too tight, darling. You’re </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> crush my neck,” Bruce wheezed out, barely staying upright under the sheer force of Richard’s hold. He did ease up a little bit. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It worked. It fucking worked,” Richard mumbled, refusing to let go. “You’re alive.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I am. Come on, easy now. I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The obsession had surely twisted some of Richard’s emotions but he didn’t care. He felt whole again and when he looked at Bruce, he saw a healthy man and not a rotting corpse. It had worked and his Master had listened at long last. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up and grabbed Bruce’s arm, giving it an experimental tug. It didn’t fall off. In fact, Bruce felt stronger and better than ever. He let Richard poke and prod him because he understood his curiosity. He too wanted to check Richard over and see if he was alright.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a lot of questions,” Bruce said when Richard seemed a lot calmer. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The walk back to the car was spent in strangely. Bruce found himself staring at Richard just as often as he was stared at. Neither were quite convinced that this was all real and something in Richard’s eyes told him that what he’d seen, was far worse than what Bruce had witnessed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How long has it been? Since the festival, I mean.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard shrugged. “Weeks. It’s almost January. Or February. I’m not sure. I haven’t cared to check. I’ve got a room we’ll share when we get back into town. I haven’t stayed there much, just booked it so I could have a place to sleep every other day or so.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was pretty cold out here. Wasn’t sure if it was just me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s always cold when you wake up.” Richard glanced at him. “You’ll feel normal soon. It’s a temporary feeling.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce nodded to himself. The car was close by, he saw it through the thinning trees. “You’ve got experience with that, don’t you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, more than I care to have.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard opened the driver’s side and waited for Bruce to get around the front of the car before sitting behind the wheel. It was easier to drive than to point Bruce down the right roads to the motel.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The drive was quiet but it wasn’t tense or dreary. Neither men had much to say- well, they did but the timing felt off and Richard just wanted to lie down and put this night behind him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Death isn’t what I thought it would be. I think I went to Hell but I can’t remember any of it now. The more I think on it, the less I can recall.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s for the best. My Master brought you back but I took on the payment. You don’t have to worry about anything. Once we’ve slept, you can go and do whatever you like.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce smiled softly and stared at the passing scenery. The dawn was beginning to rise, casting long rays of sunlight between the trees. L.A. was a good hundred miles away, at least, but there were towns in between and he could see the nearest dotted around the base of the mountains. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I want to stick around, is that allowed?” Bruce looked across to Richard. “I had a lot of fun killing with you. Most fun I’ve had in a long time.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Richard frowned but there was no anger behind it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Bruce reached over to pat his arm. “Means that not just anybody goes around resurrecting their pals. Whatever you did, it couldn’t have been easy but you still did it. So, I’m hoping you did it </span>
  <span>‘cause</span>
  <span> you like me. I don’t think you’d bring back your enemies.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We get along well. I figured we’d make a good team.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we will. I’m sure.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He patted him again with a grin and his hand lingered for a moment. The town was close now. Houses began to dot the hills and people had yet to wake up for the day. Bruce had never felt more alive.</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>